


Matching Weakness

by ragnqrok



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, i have so much homework jfc, it is so late, knights of ren!reader, kylo ren fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 14:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnqrok/pseuds/ragnqrok
Summary: Although you were a Knight of Ren, you had to be honest, you were a pretty shitty one. You were never fully dark. You had killed before and you had killed many (it was the price of the dark side), but you were never as dark as you pledged to be. Instead, after every kill you committed or witnessed, you felt the need to throw up. To somehow look away. But you were never fully light. You were weak in terms of the First Order, your love for the Master of the Knights of Ren becoming an arising problem. However, a quick mission to Jakku may reveal your weaknesses sooner than planned.





	Matching Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> please enjoy! im currently suffering MASSIVE writers block with certain characters, but Kylo definitely flowed well tonight. thanks for reading!

The smells of fire burns your nostrils as you survey the village that now stands alit, burning brightly against the night. Kylo walks in quick and confident strides towards who you presume to be Lor San Tekka, dwarfing him in comparison. You hold your breath, recognizing the look San Tekka holds in his eyes.

A chill runs down your spine, the look of understanding on his face brutally clear. He is prepared to die and you almost want to tell Kylo this mission is over. We will not find the map to Skywalker here, no matter how desperately he looks.

“Look how old you’ve become,” Kylo nearly gloats, the edge of his voice taunting.

“Something far worse has happened to you,” San Tekka’s voice rings out. You know what he’s talking about, what he’s referring to. And you can tell Kylo senses it too, his hand twitching in the slightest in his glove, a nervous tick.

You inspect the old man, wanting to be disgusted by being face-to-face with the Resistance, wanting to be filled with murderous rage at his antics. But you only can watch, fascinated and transfixed as Kylo speaks to the man. Nervous, even.

“You know what I’ve come for.” Kylo’s synthesizer creates a ripple amongst the villagers, watching as they become uneasy.

“I know where you come from. Before you called yourself Kylo Ren. And before she called herself a Knight of Ren,” San Tekka responds quickly, silencing not only Kylo but prompting you to gasp quietly, your body frozen as you watch through the mask. The moment of quiet is fleeting and brief, Kylo quick to intercept. 

“The map to Skywalker. We know you’ve found it, and now you’re going to give it to the First Order.” Kylo’s breathing begins to become more rapid as his irritation and impatience creeps up him, fueling the fire behind the mask. You can sense the urgency in his words.

“The First Order rose from the dark side; you and her did not.”

“I’ll show you the dark side,” even through the synthesizer, you can hear the growl in his voice.

“You may try, but you cannot deny the truth that is your family,” Tekka’s words hit home as Kylo’s side erupts in a spitting red flame in a crossed pattern. Your breathing catches in your throat, never fully comfortable with the aspect of Kylo Ren slicing someone in half so easy. It reminded you to much of the day where you lost more than just a home. 

“You’re so right,” Kylo’s voice graveled and instantly, his lightsaber ripping across the front of San Tekka, a repulsive sizzling sound resonating along with the raging fire surrounding you.

It happens instantly. A quick shot and a yell erupting from behind you is all it takes before Kylo has his hand outstretched. It takes you a moment to register what had just happened, the bright light of the blaster shot freezing in air, vibrating and sparking loudly. It takes you even longer to recognize the silence around you, the halting of movement. They were all looking at you.

The smell hits you first, pain blooming in your stomach shortly after, rippling across your skin. The stench is awful. Flesh burns and blood crackles in the hole that’s been partially cauterized in your skin. Only now do you let out a sound. A whimper filing out of your mouth, muffled by the mask. You press your hand to the wound before repetitively hitting it with your fist. Just as you were taught. Just as you were forced. Pain yourself until you can no longer feel others pain.

You nod to Kylo, a sign that you were okay. Although your body felt as if it was crumpling in on itself, you couldn’t interfere with Kylo. Not with what he was accomplishing. So you watched, waiting for the next move to be made against the culprit.

The shooter, who was previously frozen, is dragged past you by a pair of stormtroopers towards Kylo. He glances at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and awe, flicking down to your wound momentarily. You recognize his clothes. Resistance. Kylo was going to have a kriffing trip. You only watch as the man is forced down to his knees, an almost mocking bow to the Master of the Knights of Ren. 

“So who talks first? You talk first?” You almost want to snort at the bluntness that will surely be diminished soon.

“The old man gave it to you.”

“It’s just very hard to understand you with all the-”

“Search Him,” Kylo orders, his voice demanding. You hold your breath as the Resistance fighter receives a relatively rough pat-down from a stormtrooper, Kylo approaching the man ever so slightly.  
You hear a mumble that rests and dies on the fighter’s lips, unsure as to what he said.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Put him on board,” Kylo instructs, looking to Captain Phasma as the Resistance man is dragged away. 

“Sir, the villagers,” Phasma’s voice comes out so monotone you want to be sick. You know what’s to come next.

“Kill them all.”

The words bounce around in your head, hitting violently against your skull. You knew this was going to come, so why were you always so upset when this sort of thing happened? These were not your people, you shouldn’t care. But even then, you had killed your own people. Your own family of sorts. So as you watched Phasma give the command, you felt bile rise in your throat, the screams of women and children and the men in the village all pleading, scraping against your ears. At the sound, your wound throbs, reminding you of what these people were feeling. Shots of plasma tearing them apart and grilling their flesh.

You turned your head away.

You were waiting for your time to come to an end. Although you were a Knight of Ren and you “loyally” served the Supreme Leader Snoke, you always found yourself not wanting to be there, ever since the beginning. Ever since you had killed your own. And Snoke knew. He may not have addressed it or confronted you, but you sensed that he knew. And you also sensed your time was running short. You would be killed soon for your weakness, your purpose coming to a bloody end. But why didn’t he kill you sooner?

Your nightmares raged on as you slept, every night replaying the same exact event that brought you to serve the First Order in the first place. But every night new screams were added in. New shrieks of terror amplifying the sound until you woke up to your own screams.

You had a pull to something brighter. A pull to the light. You were not dark, but you had the capacity for it. You were not light, but you knew it manifested somewhere within you. And you found yourself desperately attempting to cling onto the darkness, clawing at this ideology of being the next Vader. But Vader was the same. Internally battling between the forces of light and dark. Was there a new Vader? Or did you already fulfill his being?

Your attention was brought back to the villagers, their bodies strewn and piled on each other, a familiar stench arising from the group. Your eyes focused on a lone Stormtrooper, staring at the dead. You recognized the frozen state his body was in. He was in shock and he was repulsed. You used to adorn the same exact look.

Kylo’s strides back to his ship brought you out of your daze, realizing his attention was towards the same Stormtrooper, surely darker thoughts fleeting throughout his mind. You followed quickly behind the dark figure, sighing as the doors shut. 

You trailed behind Kylo as he strutted through the ship, reaching a private room that almost served as an observatory deck with glass panels curving towards the front of the ship, giving a clear view of the outside world. The door clicks behind you and you sigh, your stiff and demanding demeanor fading away, pain and tiredness seeping into your body. You lift your helmet from your head, flopping onto a nearby chair, immediately regretting that decision when a groan of pain erupts from your lips.

“You’re so clumsy,” Kylo chides, his helmet now resting on a side table, him sitting opposite from you. You only shoot a teasing grin, smiling even more once Kylo rolls his eyes.

“Damn right I am. You better be glad I saved your life. I guess I’m now your bodyguard,” you fluffed out your hair from its almost greasy state after being pinned under a helmet for so long. You lift up your robes to reveal the dark patch of blood that stains the fabric. You groan, mumbling about ruining your robes and having to get new ones. “Hey, Kylo?” you frown as you call his name.

“Hm?” he pulls his gloves off, tossing them on the table.

“How much longer do you think I have?” you ask and almost instantly the room is filled with tension. You feel Kylo’s fear rippling through him and you fight the urge to comfort him.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know very well what I mean,” I sigh, playing with my gloved fingers before following Kylo’s example of tossing them away. Kylo falls silent, his eyes watching you. “Snoke knows I’m weak. He knows what I am. He knows that every time I kill or someone else kills, I’m sick to my stomach. He knows the old me never died. I never became a true Knight of Ren. I bet he knows about my nightmares,” you continue, your eyes focused on the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Kylo’s flinch at the mention of your nightmares.

It was common for you and Kylo to be this close, if not closer. You were probably his only friend in the First Order, always teasing and hanging around him. You had seemed to grow feelings for the boy back at the Jedi temple, but they only appeared to grow as you trained and continued together on your mission to lead the First Order to victory. But along with that closeness also brought your nightmares. Your night terrors tended to leave you a shaking mess, always screaming yourself from your dreams. Kylo had this capability to sense whenever someone was distressed and it was especially strong with you, always bringing him to your door every time you had a nightmare. He was there when you wanted to talk and he sat outside when you didn’t, providing a sense of security and safety.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled and you snorted, no amusement in the sound.

“You were always a terrible liar,” your voice was nostalgic until the vibration of the ship roaring to life shook you out of your small memories. You grumble, a sharp pain shooting through your abdomen, your eyes flying shut.

“Let me see that,” Kylo spoke, already pushing up from his chair and striding towards you before you could protest his action. He knelt down besides your chair, his hands grasping your robes to push them up, slowing whenever you whimpered at the cloth rubbing your wound. His fingers brushed around your wound, testing out the area and smearing some blood. You hissed at the contact.

“Your hands are so kriffing cold, what the hell? We just wore gloves in the desert how are your hands so kriffing cold?” you grit out, attempting to distract yourself from the touching that Kylo was doing. Kylo only rolls his eyes before intently studying the wound. 

“Most of it looks cauterized and the blood seems to be slowing. Are you feeling lightheaded?” he asks, his eyes shining with genuine concern.

“Nope, thanks Doctor Ren. Wanna check out some other areas?” you ask with a wink, always using wit and humor to your defense. You laugh a little as Kylo’s face flushes red and he quickly lets go of your robes before landing back in his own seat. “You never did answer the question.”

“Yes I did.”

“You just lied; that’s not answering,” you shot back, a smile tugging on your lips as his eyebrows turn down, glaring at you.

“Never. You'll never get taken away.”

“Bullshit. I’ll bet you 50 that it’ll be two weeks, wanna take me up for it?” you offer, snickering at your own little death joke.

“I won’t let him take you.” Kylo’s words are deadly, silence filling the room, his eyes meeting yours. You soften at the sight of the boy, filled with fear, frustration, rage. You smile sadly, your eyes serious, replacing the usual humor that’s present.

“I’m not worth it,” your words are soft, cushioning the impact they have. Kylo’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you-”

“You’re about to rule the kriffing galaxy and you’re going to let me get in the way? I’m a girl. One insignificant force user that is most definitely disposable. You can’t defy Snoke for me and you know it,” you say, watching as his face falls from confusion to one of pain.

The silence between you is deafening, only broken by the rumble of the ship as it lurches through space. You want to reach out. To tell Kylo it’s going to be okay, nothing’s going to happen. But you know that’s a lie and he knows it too. Kylo can’t have a weak girl in the way.

“You are so kriffing stupid.” Your eyebrows shoot upwards at Kylo’s harsh words. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to the chase. “You aren’t disposable; not to me. If you were, I wouldn’t-” Kylo’s voice falls off, resuming the silence.

“You wouldn’t what?” you whisper, desperate to know the answer. Your stomach churns in excitement and anticipation, waiting for what is to come.

“I wouldn’t want you as my friend,” Kylo finishes and you swear you feel your heart drop your feet. You force a smile, praying it looks real and genuine.

Of course you were that kriffing stupid. You loved a boy who would never be able to love you back, even if he wanted to. You had love in the first place – a weakness. 

“Kylo,” you fade off, your eyes looking out to the starry expanse that you glide past. “Before I go,” you start and you see Kylo clench his fists out of the corner of your eye, “I must confess to someone my weaknesses. To relieve myself and educate others.”

He nods and you take a deep breath, knowing this was the time to do so. This was the time to say goodbye, to confess all you have done. You sit up straight, your hand momentarily coming to the hole in your side.

“I am a failure. I have failed my training and those around me. I do not seek the dark nor do I seek the light. I seek both. I seek none. I want a balance and I have failed the Dark that I have pledged myself to. I have killed those whio trusted and loved me, who accepted me – thus failing the light that I wished I could have become. I am emotional. I have so many emotions. I have so many regrets that haunt me every day. I hesitate before every kill, no longer relying on training, instead relying on my heart. I have failed my promise to fulfill the future that Vader has not. I am weak. But yet, worst of all, I have committed the greatest treason against my training,” you choke out the last words, unsure of how to approach the topic. You meet Kylo’s eyes. “I have made the same mistake as Vader and as many before me. I love. And I am willing to let this love interfere. I would die for this love. I love you, Kylo,” you say, your jaw clenching tightly, awaiting his response.

The tension between the two of you is unbearable as Kylo only looks at you with wide and fearful eyes. You attempt to find something, anything, in his irises, but you’re left empty handed. You want to stand up, to run and shoot yourself out into space. But you sit still, waiting for his reaction. Maybe he’ll just ignore it, pretend like nothing happened.

You were wrong.

In a flash of black robes, Kylo is standing above you, his arms grasping your face. You yelp in surprise as he pushes his lips against yours, his lips surprisingly soft and warm. Instinctively, you interlace your hands behind his neck, falling into his embrace. His hands move from your face, dancing around your body before coming to rest on the side of your thighs. You pull away from the kiss, breathing hard through your nostrils.

“For the record, you are a fantastic kisser,” you laugh, your stomach flipping over and over again with excitement and joy, ecstatic at what just happened. A smile pulls at Kylo’s lips and you find yourself wanting to resume your kiss. He places his forehead on your own, but you pull back. “Ew, your forehead is sweaty,” you squeal, pulling your body back from the boy.

“Thanks,” he huffs before curling his arms around your waist to lift you up from the chair, careful not to touch your wound. He sits down on the couch that’s perpendicular to the chairs you were just sitting in, you straddling his lap.

“Does this mean you have the same weakness?” you ask, your voice hopeful. His eyes flick between yours, a small smile resting on his lips.

“I love you.”


End file.
